10 Times Arthur Kissed Gwen
by BellaVix
Summary: The 10 times they smooched :
1. Chapter 1

i.

The rain hadn't stopped for 3 straight days. It flooded the streets, drowned the crops and washed away market stalls. Gwen sat huddled in her small cottage, fingering her cloak and debating when was the best time to make a mad dash for the castle. She knew, of course, that there _was_ no good time and that she _was_ going to get wet as soon as she opened the door. So she just pulled the cloak around her shoulders, hoisted the hood over her curls and braced herself for what lay beyond the warmth of her room.

The rain, strangely enough, did not fall haphazardly. It was straight, stick straight as it plummeted to the floor. There was no wind, not even a slight breeze, just persistent and heavy, as if Camelot was situated under a waterfall. The weather had washed away several small houses, some barns, it had carried off live stock and there were even reports of missing children. Uther had blamed magic, the curse of some sorcerer that he had offended. At first Gwen was suspicious of where the King laid blame, it always seeming to fall on druids or witches, when more practical solutions were available. But now, the rain showing no signs of letting up, she was starting to believe him. Luckily, her house was very close to the courtyard, and so she was able to run to shelter under one of the turrets of the castle walls. It was dark, concealed, but dry at least, and Gwen was able to take off her hood and shake out her hair a little. The view from the raised platform was bleak. The city was grey and deserted. People seemed to have kept to their homes or fled to neighbouring towns in an attempt to keep dry and alive. But Gwen couldn't leave. Too much held her here- like iron bonds tied her to the Kingdoms stones. She was born in Camelot, she would die in Camelot. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Guinevere?"

His voice cut through the sound of rainfall, materializing behind her. Gwen didn't have to turn to know who it was. It was the way his voice wrapped around her name, caressing it, rolling it around in his mouth and spilling it out.

"My Lord."

"What are you doing out?" She turned in a slight bow, not quite ready to dispense with the formalities in such a public place. There may be no one around, but they weren't in the confines of his rooms or her house now. "It's dangerous; you can't just wander around in the rain-"

"I had to get to work." She interrupted. "Morgana will be wondering where I am." She moved to run into the castle, suddenly all too aware of just how close he was. Gwen could feel his heat, the breath on her cheek, the hand brushing near her finger tips. But he was too quick, as always, and before she knew it she was pressed back into the darkness, his body shielding her from sight.

"Guinevere." He whispered, hand running along her cheek. She wondered, somewhere deep inside her mind, if he knew just what he did to her, every time he said her name like that. From the smile on his lips, she guessed he did. "I want you to move into the castle."

That certainly hadn't been expected. A kiss, a murmur of sweet nothings...but that?

"Sorry?"

"Move into the castle. You can't live out there." He gestured behind him, "It's unsafe and wet and I don't like the idea of you...being...there-"

"It's fine. My house isn't affect-"

"Please, Gwen...." He pressed a kiss to her neck, "I separated a room from the visitor's chambers." Another kiss. "No one will know that you're there." And another. "Please..." He moved his head and brushed his lips over hers, swiftly so that she wasn't sure that it had even happened.. And quite distracted by the taste of Arthur on her skin, Gwen found herself nodding. Living alone after her father's death was harsh and lonely- being closer to Arthur could be potentially dangerous, but definitely enjoyable.

The rain stopped just a day later, but Gwen's house remained empty for a good few months.


	2. Chapter 2

The sounds of the trumpets and the cheers filled the courtyards of Camelot. The halls of the castle had been adorned in ribbons of red and gold, the candle chandeliers had been lit, flowers sat on every surface and their petals were strewn over the floors. The kingdom was celebrating- their Prince had come home. The armies of Odin had finally been crushed, after twelve years of strained half alliances and broken peace treaties. The King sent his son, he led his knights, and the rest was history. It took just 3 months to exert Camelot's strength, nothing compared to the years of fighting- but for one maid it felt like a lifetime.

She was in the kitchens when she heard the noise. The shouts that Arthur Pendragon had defeated their enemies, and won their hearts in the process. The servants dropped everything to run outside, to share in their cities triumph. But for her, everything seemed to slow down. Gwen saw the cooks leave their pots, she felt the body push past her own- but her feet remained still.

He was alive. _Alive. _

He had promised that he'd return. In darkened alcoves, with hands held tightly and breath panting, kisses and oaths and sighs had rolled from their mouths and fell into Gwen's lap. She'd swept them up and locked them away, only peeping when the longing became too much. It was this longing that spurred her feet, soon finding herself running and not remembering a single step until she reached the outside.

"Gwen!" Merlin's shout came only a moment before he slammed into her side, lifting her up and spinning her into a hug. "I missed you!"

And it just dawned on Gwen just how much she had missed her friend. All her thoughts had been consumed by Arthur that she had little emotion left to worry about Merlin too. This admission had her feel guilty, so she did nothing but tighten her hold on him, glad that he too was unharmed.

"And before you ask," Merlin drawled, a slow smile burning on his mouth, "Arthur is fine, and he asked me to give you this." He dropped a folded piece of parchment into her hands, before catching sight of Gaius and rushing a goodbye.

"My Lady,

If you would visit my Chambers, I should be much gratified.

A.

p.s. I missed you

x

And to his rooms she ran.

^*^*^

As it turns out, getting to Arthur's rooms had taken longer than expected. First off, came the cooks. "Gwen, dear?" The rounded woman came bustling out of the kitchens, just as she ran past, effectively blocking off her route. "Could you lend a hand in here? Just for a moment or so, it's the underhand you see, she's broke her wrist and the Prince has returned and the knights will be wanting food and mead and-"

"Yes, yes." She smiled, though tightly, "Of course."

And after filling up tankards and washing out goblets, Gwen had finally escaped the servant's quarters. Walking briskly up the steps toward his room, Gwen could feel the note in her pocket and hear the promises on his voice. Just that little bit further and-

**OOMPH!**

Something knocked her off her feet, and she landed flat on her rear, completely dazed and slightly sore. "Oh, _God_, sorry!" A deep voice bellowed from somewhere above her, and suddenly she was vertical and leaning against something solid. "Gwen? You okay? Didn't see you down there."

"Sir Leon." She smiled, blushing as she stepped back from Arthur's second in command, "Sorry. If I could just-" Gwen made to move around the man, and toward his door.

"I trust all was well in Camelot while we've been away?" _Great, he wants to make conversation._ And Gwen was nothing if not polite. "No trouble I hope?"

"None, My Lord." She sighed, keeping it short. "Everyone has been eagerly awaiting your return. But if I could-"

"Oh good" He laughed. "I must admit I've missed the city- the people, the castles, My wife, most of all-"

"Yes, that's very understandable, Sir. But I really should-"

"And the _war_- the war was a lot easier than we anticipated. Arthur had us training nonstop for weeks, when really it only took a couple of weeks; give or take the travel time."

"Indeed, but-"

"Not that it wasn't _worth_ it! A fight for the glory of Camelot is always a worthy cause. And I am looking forward to the feast tonight- cider and dancing is a welcome reprieve from water and hunks of bread. Promise me you'll save me a dance?"

"Sir Leon." His voice was even lovelier than she remembered, and even as she snapped her neck to see him open his chamber door, time seemed to slow. Blue ice on chocolate pools, their gazes locked and everything seemed to align again. Gwen saw his lips move to dismiss Leon, and she felt him pull her into his rooms. The door clicked shut and the silence engulfed them completely.

"Guinevere," the name was uttered against her neck; Arthur drank in as much of her as he could. The months of solitude, the cold camps, the blood and the cries and the sweat all melted away leaving just her and him. "You have _no_ _idea_ how much I've missed you..."

"I do. And you're uninjured? You're not hurt?" Her hands skirted over his shoulders, down his arms and round his back, eliciting a shiver from him.

"I promised I'd come back, didn't I?"

"You did, My Lord." He leant forward, noses touching and breath mingling.

"Well, then, "his lips swept over her cheeks and along her jaw, "since I kept my end of the bargain," another peck beneath her ear, "I think it's only fair that you-"

But his teases got cut off as Gwen's lips came down on his own. It was stronger than their previous kisses, both pouring their memories of the past weeks into it. He may have tasted like steel and smelt like mud, but his kiss was pure ambrosia.


	3. Chapter 3

"So? What do you think?"

His eyes never left hers, so sure and steady, that it made her feel sick. Gwen had never been proposed to before, but that didn't mean she hadn't lived the moment over and over again in her head. Gwen had imagined sitting in the meadow, she could smell the lavender and feel the winds. She saw the sky so clearly above her and the grass beneath. But more than anything, Gwen could sense the man lying next to her. The moment would be perfection, and she would have been euphoric. So when he asked her, in the dark of an alleyway, the faint smell of ale on his clothes and breath, Gwen was actually speechless.

"Well?" He sighed, taking a step closer, a smug smile on his lips. That's when Gwen lost it.

"Are you _serious_?" she hissed, "You- you want me to _marry_ you?"

"Well, yes, of course. Gwen I-"

"That was _not_ a proposal!" She fumed, now pacing up and down the secluded street, whilst trying to keep a check on her volume. "Here, in front of a dingy alehouse, where I can barely see your face, you _propose_!?"

"Look," he whispered, "I know I've made mistakes- I know that not everything has run smoothly but I had hoped that we could put that behind us. And what does it matter where or when, just as long as we both feel that it is right, and that we both love each other." He stopped rather abruptly, yet Gwen did not stop walking.

"We are in love, aren't we Gwen?"The crack in his voice was too perceptible in the silence, and she wished that she could answer him. Or at least tell him what he so wanted to hear.

"_Lancelot_." She frowned, finally turning to see his shadow in the darkness. "It's not that I don't have feelings for you, you know that I do, but-"

"You love _him_." It was more of a statement than a question, but she still felt the need to answer it.

"I'm sorry. I do. And I know that it's ridiculous and pathetic and downright childish to keep it up, but I can't seem to stop. I have tried so many times to turn off my feelings, to avoid him and act distant but it's futile. It makes me miserable and him angry, until finally I end up just wanting him more." She took a steadying breath, and chanced a glance up at Lancelot, now leaning dejectedly against the stone walls. "You are the most realistic choice, we both know that. But you're not the one I'm going to make."

She turned to walk home, eager for the solitude of her own house and the comfort of her own bed, when she felt the tug on her elbow. And suddenly he was very close, grasping at her arms.

"You once told me that your feelings for me would _never_ change," he spat. "So you lied? A few words of adoration for the man who was sacrificing his life for your own?!"

"That is _not_ fair." Gwen bit back. "I do care for you, Lancelot. You are noble and brave and loyal- you're the personification of dreams, and my opinions on that will always be the same. But it would be unfair to me _and_ to you if we wed. Besides," she smiled, "you are far too good for me."

"But you're everything to me."

The swish of his newly acquired cape brushed behind him as he stalked away. The next time she saw him he was laughing, a pretty girl on his arm and a child running between his legs.

^*^*^

It wasn't long before the news of just _what_ Lancelot did reached his ears. He was training with his knights when he overheard Sir Gareth mention it to Sir Leon, an off handed remark after a spar.

"Oh aye!" Laughed Leon, smirking into his water cup. "Doesn't waste time does he? Back a couple of days and already after the women!"

"Well, Lancelot is nothing if not daring." Another knight piped up, Arthur now fully engrossed in the conversation, yet with his back to the group. Truth be told, he had been on edge ever since the dark haired man returned- stealing more time with Guinevere and keeping a close eye on _him_. He consoled himself that he would be gone soon, off to Mercia to serve under his King, away from Camelot and away from them. But the sinking in his gut made him think that it was all already over.

"Well, that Gwen is quite a catch- pretty and sweet. He's a lucky man." Even remarks like that made Arthur seethe. What did they think they were doing looking at his Guinevere? And the stark realisation that she wasn't _his_, that he had no claim to her hit him hard in the stomach. It was all he could do not to balk.

"She said no." He recognised that voice instantly. Usually irritating and whiny, Arthur suddenly had a new found respect for it. Merlin was a useless servant, but somehow he always knew what to say.

"Huh?" Gareth was quickly losing interest in the conversation, picking off pieces of his armour and discarding them.

"Gwen said no." Merlin looked directly at Arthur as he said it, knowing that the relief on his face was _not_ thanks to the pitcher of ale he'd just downed.

"I've got to go, erm, I have to see my father..." Arthur hurried a goodbye, the knights bowed a little, and the warlock just grinned.

^*^*^

The clouds, she had never noticed before, were not white. Gwen had seen them a million times before, drew them when she was a child and watched them when she was bored, and each time she was sure that they were white. But as it turns out, they were always yellow. They were grey and blue and a little pink, but not at all white. Strange that as she lay in the Eastern Plains, surrounded by sun and trees, that _this_ is what she thought of. The lavender was in the air, the breezes ruffled her curls and the softness of the grasses were cushioning the floor.

"Well?"

She turned over, effectively pinning him beneath her, pressing her lips to his. And then, just like it had every time they kissed, everything fell so perfectly into place. His taste, his smell, his touch were like a dream to Gwen, one she had realised over and over and over again.

"Is that a yes?" Arthur's smirk was arrogant and boyish, but inherently beautiful all the same.

"That's a promise."


	4. Chapter 4

iv

"Don't tell me that nothing can come of it!"

Arthur was pacing. Well, as much as _he_ could pace in Gwen's small one roomed house. His arms were stiff by his sides, only occasionally throwing them about to reinforce his point, and his eyes seemed to be either rolling or glaring. Guinevere, in the mean time, was sitting quite still on the edge of her wooden bench, currently nursing a cup of hot ale and watching Arthur brood.

"You cannot just _give up_- I won't let you. I won't-"

He cut himself off, sighing in an exasperated way, and turning sharply to look in Gwen's direction. But she refused to look up. It was an argument they had had many time s before- the only real thing that they _ever_ argued about, but one that never the less seemed to reappear every month. Gwen had tried; God _knows_ she had tried, but it seemed that they were each as stubborn as the other- and neither were willing to back down on the issue. So all she could do was sit silently, and let the Prince vent.

"I refuse."

Arthur stated, and sat opposite her, arms folded on the table and eyes boring into Gwen's cheek.

"_Sorry_?"

"I refuse."

"You refuse?" She smirked, half amused, half annoyed. "What on _earth_ does that mean? You cannot just refuse; this isn't a matter of choice-"

"That's _exactly_ what it is, Guinevere." He reached out and stroked a thumb over her calloused palm. There was a time when the state of her hands had embarrassed her in front of Arthur, but that had passed after months of him touching and holding and playing with them. She saw that his were rough too- from fighting and weapon training- but to Gwen they were just _Arthur's_ hands, the ones that fit so perfectly around her own.

"I won't give you up." His eyes were hooded, the blue seemed darker in them today, more resolute and determined than she had seen them before. "Don't ask me to, because I can't."

"You don't have a choice Arthur," She flipped her hand over and grasped on to his tightly. "Neither of us do. Do you really think that _we_ have _any_ say in this?"

The reality of the situation had hit them not long after Arthur and Merlin had returned from killing the Dragon. Gwen had been so relieved, so unbelievably happy that he had come back to her that for once she had thrown caution to the wind. She had ran to him and held him close, breathed in the smell of his hair, revelled in the feel of his arms on her waist- and suddenly she found herself not really caring anymore. How could anyone tell her that this wasn't right? That the sensation of having Arthur so close to her was anything but perfection? Words had tumbled from their mouths that night. Promises and revelations had dripped from their tongues; kisses had been planted on his neck and her shoulders.

And to them both, that night had been the start of it.

But after months of sweet whisperings and secret meetings and stolen glances and hidden embraces Gwen had begun to see that maybe this was it. Maybe she could only ever have her Prince when no one else was using him.

And of course, Arthur hadn't taken this too well.

"Why shouldn't we?!" His deep voice reverberated off her close walls, and Gwen started from her ministrations. "It's our bloody lives! It's our future- who the _hell_ can dictate what we do?"

"Your _father_?" She hissed, fighting back the bite in her eyes. "Social decorum? The people of Camelot? You are going to be the greatest King this place has ever seen- you cannot diminish that by marrying anyone less than perfect! You need a Queen who knows how to rule, who will _inspire_ you and add to your prestige, not taint it-"

"_Stop_!" His fist slammed down, and knocked her tumbler clean off the bench. He jumped up and ran to her side, kneeling and fisting at the lilac folds of her dress. "I won't listen to this- not again."

"Arthu-"

"_No_." He breathed, rubbing circles into her knee. "You are the only person fit to be Queen, Gwen. I could look for the rest of my life, run around the world till I'm ninety and I _still_ wouldn't find anyone more suited to rule- to rule with _me_."

He looked down and she found herself missing the steel of his eyes on hers. "Truth is," he murmured, playing with a loose thread on her dress, "is that I don't _want_ to do this without you. I've been groomed for this my whole life- taken it as an inevitability- until you told me that this wasn't just a birth right, it was a gift. A gift that is completely pointless and hollow and meaningless if I can't share it with you."

Gwen slipped from her seat and fell down beside him on the floor, her hands automatically going up to cup his cheeks and stroke his neck. "Arthur..." she breathed.

"So you have to stop." He titled his chin to look at her, and in some vain attempt to compose himself in front of the woman he loved. "You just have to stop it. _Please_."

Gwen wasn't sure whether it was the wet glisten in his eye or the soft strained chord of his voice, but something made her promise that she wouldn't bring up this topic again...not until she really really had to. So she tipped her head down and caught his mouth with hers, letting her lips say what she couldn't.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._


End file.
